


Some nights

by MrsPurplePebble



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, S5E01, upset merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsPurplePebble/pseuds/MrsPurplePebble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Struggling to sleep on the cold hard ground after seeing Merlin upset again, Arthur fights against his impulses and reflects a little on the 'understanding' he and Merlin have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some nights

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you could say this is inspired by episode S5E01, But with no spoilers so in reality it could be set during any night the boys spent on a mission. 
> 
> Includes a few Snip-its of much larger scenes i plan to write. 
> 
> Just a warning this is not beta'd at moment. It will be soon, but wanted to post before next episode aired. 
> 
> Hope you like. pp
> 
> =========================================================================

Arthur rolled over on the hard ground. It was uncomfortable, it always was. Normally it didn’t bother him. He had slept many nights on cold hard ground that he was used to it by now. Normally on his back with his sword resting on his chest he could find sleep just as easy as if he were in his own bed, but not tonight. Tonight he fidgeted and shuffled about, and found himself counting those stones pressing into his back.

 

When he first rode out as king, many years ago now, he had found a bed roll was laid for him; a thick mattress that had lulled him to sleep just as easy as the Queens arms. He had sleep so well upon it, dawn came and went the next day without him even batting an eyelid. The knights had teased him, gently of course, when finally he awoke late and deep into the morning. But beneath the banter, he could see tired dark ringed eyes, stiff muscles and the beginning of exhaustion that by the time they were on the return journey would be weighing them so heavy they barely even paused to eat before falling to slumber.

 

He never used the bed roll again.

 

If the ground was good enough for his loyal knights, ready to accompany him into unknown danger, then it would be good enough for him.

 

Only on the most demanding of occasions, the eve of a great battle for example when he needed the solitude to focus himself, did he allow a full tent and cot to be set up for him.

 

He could not deny the canvas was a gift when his need for privacy grew too strong to ignore, but indulgent just wasn’t his style.

 

Rolling to his side he dug his shoulder into the ground and tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat as he stared forward.

 

Merlin lay next to him, less than an arms length away, his eyes bright and impossibly blue shining through the darkness.

 

He lay on his front, his arms crossed under his head as a pillow, his face turned towards his King.

 

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. How many times had he schooled him not to lay like that? With his face in the dirt he was just as likely to end up with a mouth full of ants as any sleep.

 

Arthurs frustration faded as quickly as it had flared when he realised Merlin hadn’t reacted to his sudden gaze. It was almost as if he had been waiting for him to turn.

 

Arthur felt a kick low in his stomach.

 

How many times had they done this? How many times had they laid seeking sleep within touching distance of one another? And how many times must Arthur reach across that distance to pull Merlin close before his desire to do so was satisfied?

 

He can see the question in Merlin’s eyes as clear as if he were speaking it aloud.

 

“Do you want me tonight?”

 

Arthur wanted to say no, he wanted to shake his head, roll onto his back, and fall to sleep with thirst unsatisfied, and guilt unmade.

 

He didsn’t. He Can't.

 

He doesn’t move at all. He is frozen. He had promised himself he wouldn’t do this. Even as he felt the thrill of its possibility bubbling in his blood when he had rode through Camelot’s gates just this morning he had sworn not to yield to temptation.

 

Before he can break his pledge, Merlin’s eyes move again. Gently flicking to the dark forest edge and back again.

 

It’s another question and Arthur feels even worse.

 

Merlin’s eyes are still swollen red from what ever it was that so pained him early in the night, and yet he is still trying to offer what ever Arthur needs from him. Be that his body warmth shared in loving embrace or just his body for pleasures unmatched.

 

Arthur still doesn’t move, despite the dreams he has had of this moment. There is something he wants from Merlin, Something he wants to do to Merlin. Something they haven't yet. The thought of it has haunted him since they were last out in the forest, and he had witnessed a couple of his men who barley even made it into the nearest shadows before indulging in their most animal of desires. One of them dropping to his knees for the other, and with hands graped painfully tight in his hair begun to greddily pull from his companion noises that haunted Arthurs dreams.

 

Arthur's want had grown to such an extent he had considered falsifying a reason for them to leave the suffocating walls of home, for he will not engage with Merlin inside them. He believes now that it's because of the respect he has for his Queen, when in truth it was forged before he took her hand, before he took his crown.

 

“Never at Camelot.” Breathless from there first clumsy kiss the demand escaped Arthur as his hands greedily pulled at Merlin’s clothes.

 

Merlin’s nodding consent was quickly given.

 

A promise agreed just moments before they gave themselves into each others hands, and into the frantic passion both had been denying for longer than they dare admit.

 

Their entanglements, their relationship, it is only ever to exist in the open air. Free from the shadows of the palace. This is their vow, and he will stick to it. No matter how hard it has grown of late.

 

Both have weakened to temptation once. Attempting to turn those lingering touches, that they did allow themselves in the castle, into something more.

 

Arthur's failing had come on the most unlikely of nights; his wedding night.

 

As all inhabitants of the castle celebrated and got progressively drunk, Arthur found his eyes drifting again and again to Merlin and the younger Knight he had spent most of the evening speaking with. When the Knight reached out to wrap his arm around an inebriated Merlin’s shoulder it was too much for Arthur to bare.

 

With nothing but pure jealousy thundering in his veins, he excused himself from his new wife's side, flew across the room, pulled Merlin physically from his new friend, and out through the nearest door, with barley a hissed excuse left in his wake.

 

In the deserted corridor Arthur pinned Merlin against a wall and kissed him so hard he was certain his lips would be swollen and bruised for days.

 

Arthur had seen tears in Merlin's eyes that night when he pulled away.

 

"You can't do that... its not fair." Merlin voice shook as his body did against Arthurs.

 

Arthur reached up to cup Merlin's face. The act extracted a whimper from the other man. "I want..." he began, ready to confess all.

 

"Don't." Merlin interrupted, his eyes clenched shut as if he were in pain. "Don't do this, not...not now."

 

Arthur swallowed hard, dropped his hand, and did as his servant asked, returning to his Queen without a backwards glance. It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

 

The time Merlin had tried to break their treaty was less than a full moon later, and he had been more than a little drunk.

 

Arthur reacted angrily as Merlin leant in close. Lashing out, with a temper that he still hadn’t forgiven himself for, he shoved Merlin viciously away.

 

Unstable at the best of times Merlin had stumbled over his own feet, and crashed face first into the long table in Arthurs quarters.

 

Arthur was horrified, but before he could even react, Merlin had disappeared from his chambers.

 

When he reappeared serving breakfast the following morning Arthur’s guilt had almost crushed him. Merlin had a large gash across his cheek bone, and dark bruises that threatened to swell his eye.

 

Guinevere had been unable to stop a cry of distress escaping her. The Knights appeared shocked before it turned into anger. Their protectiveness over Merlin never more clear to see.

 

Merlin shook off everyone's concern. An easy lie coming from him that he had been in a tavern fight. No-one believed him, but no-one could make him say any different.

 

That very evening, on a impromptu hunting trip created purely to get them away from the castle, Arthur had begged for forgiveness on bended knee.

 

Merlin had given it instantly, his own unneeded apology spilling from his lips, like overflowing wine.

 

Despite the heavy words they shared, the agreement they reaffirmed, it had taken another three trips away from the castle before either stop flinching from the other's advances.

 

Time had eventually smoothed over the ragged edges of those painful early encounters, and now they barley even needed word to communicate what they needed from the other.

 

As such, when Merlin’s eyes softened just slightly around the edges, Arthur knew his inactivity has been taken as an answer, as a rejection.

 

It was in a way, but not the way Merlin seemed to take it, a sadness settling across his features before he bannish the telling emotion.

 

Arthur will not ask for his desire tonight. He can not. The air feels thick with Merlin’s melancholy, and although that is not as unusual as he would like, Arthur is struggling to shake it.  

 

Arthur may vocally brand Merlin’s as a coward for his apparent fear of battles, laugh at him for his weakness. In truth he knows better. He has seen Merlin throw himself into situations others would balk at, without second thought.

 

Its not cowardice that sometimes makes Merlin look as if his world is about to end, it’s something else. Something Arthur has never been able to pin down.

 

He questioned him, teased him, cajoled him, but still Merlin never releases those thoughts that haunt his eyes.

 

Arthur sometimes wonders if it is him, if Merlin isn’t as happy with their agreement as he is.

 

He knows he is king, and that his word is law on everything, everything except this. He more than hopes Merlin knows he can refuse him. In fact he prays to the stars that the servant is acting out of his own need when his hands stroke patterns against Arthur’s skin, begs the moon that it is Merlin’s own desire forcing his soft lips to whisper kisses against Arthur neck. Not just because Arthur wills that he does so.

 

All that calms Arthur in midst this panic is the knowledge that Merlin has never kowtowed to his title before. Not even when he probably should have. So he can not imagine him doing so now. Yet still Arthur worries. The thought of Merlin being forced into doing anything he did not want fires an anger in Arthur that is hard to extinguish.

 

It burns just as fierce as the thought of Merlin not taking what he wants, what he needs.

 

Arthur has witnessed that more than once. He has seen the boy refuse food, and forgo water, just to allow another he deemed needier to have it instead.

 

He can see feel that same stubborn self-sacrifice emanating from him now. 

 

Merlin's eyes are still on him, but they are wiped clean of hope and desire. There is no question lingering in them now, just an open stare. Merlin is studying him like he is a picture, and Merlin wants to memorise all the brush strokes. It should unnerve him, but it doesn’t, he is use to Merlin’s intense gaze by now.

 

Merlin’s hidden want for comfort, that had Arthur decided to roll the other way he is certain he would never of known about, is matched only by Arthurs need to give it to him.

 

No matter what rules he imposes on them or how many promises he makes to stop this he cannot give his servant up. He doesn't want to. His heart beats to the sound of Merlin’s name, and his blood sings at Merlin’s presence. He needs him more than any other.

 

He can resist no longer. His rejection was never of Merlin himself, just of the baser side of their coupling. He inclines his head just slightly, and nods at the bare ground next to him.

 

Merlin's eyes shoot wide, and Arthur does it again, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

The movement, which would barley even register to most, is enough.  

 

Merlin moves before Arthur even looks back up. Sliding across the ground, he is next to Arthur within a heartbeat, tucking in close. His back pressed against the King’s chest, his legs bent to mirror Arthurs exact.

 

Arthur pulls him closer still, his hands slipping over Merlin’s hips, and up under his thin shirt to rest gently on his warm skin of his chest. He doesn’t know why. He has no further desire right now; he just wants to feel the contact between them, the beating of Merlin's heart beneath his finger tips.

 

Merlin's hands slide over the top of his and their fingers entwine. Arthur bites back his sigh at the pleasure of it, and it makes a silly little noise instead.

 

“Ar-t-hur,” Merlin’s voice is wretched in response, and not in the way Arthur likes to make it. It sounds so broken and fearful. It hurts Arthur to hear it and know there is nothing he can do unless Merlin confides in him. Something he has been waiting for, for even longer than this.

 

He would fight a dragon for the man in his arms, stand and feels its fiery breath on his face if the act could chase away the demons that haunt him, heal the wounds that hurt him.

 

He curls himself tighter around Merlin’s back, as he feels a sob raise from Merlin's chest and claw its way up through his throat.

 

He wants to do more, to say something to help, but he can’t think what. He has only one thing and he doesn’t know if it will help. Slowly he leans forward and rests his chin on the dip of Merlin’s shoulder. His lips brush against the man’s ear as he whispers his biggest secret and the deepest truth he knows in the hope that just somehow it will help.

 

“I will always want you.” 

 


End file.
